In which he resolves to resolve.

A lot has happened since I last dropped a blog on you, so allow me to fill you in…

I switched back to real milk, albeit skim. I have had several haircuts. I vastly improved the digital version of the Cincinnati Bengals in Madden ’11 via smart trades and well-researched draft picks (they have won 3 Super Bowls in a row). I occasionally enjoy a Coke Zero after years of soda avoidance. I moved to Brooklyn, NY. I finally saw Tron. The NKOTB and the BSB are now NKOTBSB. I gave up on my electric mandolin lessons.

That brings us current.

OK, so we’re heading into a new year (the second to last one, according to John Cusack, so let’s make it count!). Everyone is busy making resolutions, and by everyone I mean nobody. New Year’s resolutions are a farce. They’re just a way for local news programs to kill time with puff pieces about gyms getting busy. The last New Year’s resolution was made heading into 1912 by Captain Edward J. Smith. He vowed to visit New York City in the Spring. That worked out well.

Welp, I’m going to break that streak for the Human Mother-truckin’ Race. I’m going to make a resolution for the entirety of the 2011 calendar year. This is going to involve all of you. You will be competing against me. I’m putting my reputation on the line. And I’ve got no reputation, so I got nothing to lose! It’s gonna be a blood bath (which I hear are good for your skin)!

“What the heck is it? You know, what are you doing? Umm, do you have, like, umm, plans Thursday,” is what you’re all asking now. Well, ladies, just email me your digits, and… IT’S A SECRET, FOR NOW. It wouldn’t be a very good “New Year’s” resolution if I made it this far out. We haven’t even given Christmas a chance yet, and hell, I’m still eating leftover latkes from חנוכה (then again, when aren’t I eating latkes – I live in Clinton Hill, BK. Waka waka).

So come back, December 31st, for the reveal of what will surely sweep the minds and capture the hearts of America for the whole of 2011. My dinky little resolution. Typed up on a blog. That no one reads. Except my Mom and Dad. And Dad sometimes doesn’t get it.




1 Comment

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One response to “In which he resolves to resolve.

  1. bud forster

    I get it.

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